He says he still loves me. Yet... yet he chooses the circus over me, still. I think about my earlier words "Every time I see you my heart tears a little more, soon it will be nothing more than shredded paper, not that it matters," and wonder if this isn't already the case. He walks off, leaving me feeling empty and I lean against the tree, trying to recover from seeing him again. Why did I think it was a good idea to come here?
I'm terrified that he will ask me to join the circus again. I can't do it. I won't. Gritting my teeth, I growl at nothing in particular, pushing myself back to my feet, away from the tree. I can't stay here. My feet take me back to my apartment and I hardly notice the journey, my head still spinning from seeing William again.
For some reason, I feel compelled to check the apartment before taking off my makeup and getting ready for bed. Almost as if I expect William to be there waiting for me. He isn't. Though I can't shake the feeling of being watched. I ignore the feeling, getting undressed and putting on a silk vest top with matching loose trousers, and clamber into bed, ready to sleep through the sunrises I miss so much from my human life.
I can't sleep. I lie there for hours, but even when the sun is blazing high up in the sky, reaching its noon peak, I can't seem to close my eyes. Damn you, Will. In the end I turn on the TV, flicking through random channels until something catches my eye. It's a news bulletin that catches my eye. Something about murders that don't make sense. From the description, I can make perfect sense of it. One of us. Some vampire that can't control themselves.
The descriptions of the kills make me hungry. I remember that one time I slipped up, draining a human to his death. That crime that William couldn't bring himself to punish me for, though I longed for him to kill me. I pleaded and begged for it. I cried and desperately wanted him to end everything for me, but he couldn't do it. That was a worse punishment than death. As the news article continues, more details being added, I stop listening. The craving to kill is almost enough to send me barrelling out into the sunlit street below and drain a human on the spot.
My stomach growls hungrily and every nerve in my body tingles for it, a tingle that soon becomes aching. I grip my bed sheets tightly and writhe around, twisting them up, fighting myself, my desire to kill. I end up going to the fridge, looking for donor blood that I keep for when the cravings hit. It's nowhere near as good as fresh blood, but it helps, just a little. Cravings hurt. I crumple to the floor with a bag of blood, leaning back against an empty cupboard with it, drinking desperately.
I drain it dry and it's not enough. Crying, my fist tightens around the empty plastic container and I sit there with my knees hugged to my chest and tears getting the better of me with every sob. I don't move for hours, silently struggling still against my desires. Until I hear a knock at my door.